


Not Safe For Work

by doctorkaitlyn



Series: tumblr fics & ficlets, part ii. [14]
Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Banter, Established Relationship, Hand Jobs, M/M, Mentioned Zack Evans, Semi-Public Sex, Teasing, Workplace Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-11
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2019-03-16 13:29:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13637214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctorkaitlyn/pseuds/doctorkaitlyn
Summary: Of all the many, many meetings Ryan has had to sit through since becoming a full-fledged Buzzfeed employee, this one is probably the most painful, for exactly three reasons.1) It's not even eight thirty yet, and his coffee has yet to kick in and wake him up.2) Zack is on his left watching a muted stream of last night’s Warriors and Lakers game, which is nearly impossible to look away from.3) Shane is on his right, and one of his huge hands has been planted just above Ryan’s knee almost from the moment he first sat down.(Or, having sex in a sound booth during work hours probably isn't appropriate workplace conduct, even for Buzzfeed, but that doesn't stop Ryan and Shane.)





	Not Safe For Work

**Author's Note:**

  * For [veronicabunch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/veronicabunch/gifts).



> written for the prompt 'anything involving the secretive brushing of fingertips against inner thighs in public spaces' from [this](http://banshee-cheekbones.tumblr.com/post/170288406393/tickatocka-some-fun-sex-tropes-laughing-during) list, as provided by Ronnie when I couldn't narrow the damn list down.
> 
> there are some super quick breathplay references, so warning for those!

Of all the many, many meetings Ryan has had to sit through since becoming a full-fledged Buzzfeed employee, this one is probably the most painful, for exactly three reasons.

Firstly, it’s not even eight thirty yet, but the meeting has already been in progress for nearly half an hour. While he’s drank half a cup of coffee in the time since he sat down at the boardroom’s long table, the caffeine has yet to actually kick in, and while he’s sure that the meeting is probably something that he should be paying attention to, it’s hard enough keeping his eyes open, let alone actively listening to the ideas being thrown back and forth.

Secondly, Zack is sitting on his immediate left, laptop open in front of him, screen strategically turned away from the front of the room. He’s actually contributing to the meeting, casually tossing out ideas and tapping out notes in a blank Word document, but most of his screen is taken up by a muted stream of last night’s Warriors and Lakers game, and even though Ryan knows the outcome of the game already, since it was the first thing he checked on Twitter after his alarm went off, his eyes keep straying to the screen anyways.

The third reason the meeting is proving to be one of the most painful things that he’s ever sat through is that Shane is sitting on his immediate right. His hair is a little disheveled, and there’s approximately two days’ worth of dark stubble crawling along his jaw and spreading up across his cheeks. Despite the early hour, his eyes are alert behind his clear framed glasses, and he looks almost unfairly attractive, which would be a problem at the best of times.

However, the bigger issue at the moment is that one of his huge hands has been planted just above Ryan’s knee almost from the moment he first sat down. 

If his hand was just resting there, Ryan might be able to actually focus on something; while they aren’t super blatant with their affections for each other at work, aren’t making out in the hallways or cuddling at their desks, they also don’t unnecessarily restrain themselves. He’s used to Shane occasionally dropping a hand to the back of his neck when they’re tossing ideas back and forth for new episodes of Unsolved, used to their fingers idly tangling together when they’re in a meeting or waiting for their turn to film something when they’ve been roped into participating in a video for someone else. 

But his hand _isn’t_ just resting there. Slowly, but distinctively, it’s been creeping further up Ryan’s leg, one inch at a time. By the time eight forty-five comes around with no end to the meeting in sight, it’s resting solidly on the middle of his thigh, and Shane’s long fingers, his pinkie and index in particular, are tracing back and forth over the inner seam of his jeans. Somehow, Shane is also managing to simultaneously participate in the meeting; he’s adding good points, picking up where others left off, free hand alternating between waving a pen around and wrapping around his coffee mug, all while his other hand creeps even further up Ryan’s thigh.

And the thing is, Ryan knows that, if he asks Shane to stop, if he glares at him or kicks him sharply in the ankle, Shane will immediately yank his hand away from his leg. Realistically, that would be the safest thing to do. At the very least, he could tug his leg away or shift closer to Zack so that Shane can’t reach him anymore. 

However, if there’s one thing Ryan has made a career out of, it’s knowing what the smartest thing to do would be and then doing the exact opposite of that.

So, when Shane’s hand moves yet another inch and crosses into territory that is officially dangerous, Ryan slumps down a little further in his chair, rolls even closer to the table, until the edge of it is digging into his chest, and splays his legs a little further apart, mindful not to bump his left knee into Zack, so that Shane has more room to work with.

Just after he makes himself more comfortable, there’s a momentary malfunction with the presentation that’s currently being shown on the screen at the front of the room, and he takes advantage of the moment by glancing to his right so that he can look at Shane’s face. He’s writing something down on his notepad, but after a moment, he looks up and catches Ryan’s eye. His mouth curls into a slight smirk and he fucking _winks_ , not all exaggerated and theatrical like when they’re filming Unsolved, but subtle and quick and meant only for Ryan’s eyes. His fingers slip up even higher, until they’re unbearable close to Ryan’s zipper, and Ryan snatches his mug off the table and just barely manages to bury a gasp into the rim, nearly chokes on his now-cold coffee. 

“You alright buddy?” Zack asks and, for a moment, Ryan’s stomach sinks as he assumes the worst, assumes that they’ve been found out. However, when he swivels his head to his left, Zack isn’t even looking at him; his gaze is fixed on the screen of his laptop, on the still streaming basketball game.

Relief floods through him, as palpable as a cold chill.

“Yeah man, I’m good,” he answers, biting his lip when one of Shane’s fingers actually drags up the teeth of his zipper, right over where he’s hard and straining against his damn constricting jeans. “Coffee just went down the wrong way.” Zack just nods and, moments later, the meeting starts up again.

By the time the meeting wraps up fifteen long minutes later, three things have happened to Ryan.

1) He hasn’t taken a single note on the pad of paper in front of him. Truthfully, he _still_ isn’t exactly sure what the meeting was even about.

2) The caffeine from his coffee is finally, blessedly starting to kick in, and his eyelids no longer feel like they’re being weighed down by anchors.

3) Shane has gotten him so goddamn hard that it _hurts_.

Once everyone starts standing up, Shane’s fingers curl around his dick through the thick fabric of his jeans and _squeeze_ , and Ryan has to muffle another groan as a cough. Thankfully (or maybe not so thankfully), the touch is fleeting, and Shane’s fingers drag across and over the top of his thigh as he pushes his chair away from the table and gets to his feet.

“We still recording audio at nine thirty?” he asks, gathering up his notepad and coffee mug, sounding so casual and collected that Ryan could _strangle_ him.

“Yep,” he answers, grabbing his phone and opening up his email app, because he’s pretty sure the longer he spends looking at Shane, the longer it’s going to take him to not be hard. Considering how boring most of his emails are, it’s usually a foolproof method for calming himself down, and he starts with one he would normally just delete, from a clothing website he’s been meaning to unsubscribe from for months.

Unexpectedly, Shane’s hand drops to the back of his neck. His fingertips trace along Ryan’s collar, so goddamn soft that goosebumps immediately explode up Ryan’s spine, and he has to bite down on his lip again to contain the sigh that wants to explode from his throat.

“Alright. I’ll go get everything ready. See you in ten?” 

Ryan nods, digs his free hand into his own thigh, and goes back to scrolling, hoping all the while that there isn’t going to be another meeting starting in the next few minutes, because he’s pretty sure if he stands up right now, he’s going to end up being the talk of the office, and not for a good reason. Thankfully, no one else comes wandering in, and he’s able to take a few minutes to compose himself, finish his disgustingly cold coffee, and think about his next move with respect to Shane.

By the time he polishes off his drink, he has an idea.

He detours to his desk long enough to drop off his coffee mug and grab some notes for their recording session, a handful of tissues, a roll of tape, and a slightly crumpled piece of paper before he heads to the sound booth they’ve booked for the next two hours. The door is slightly ajar, and he can see Shane inside, adjusting one of the microphones to accommodate his height. He glances up briefly when Ryan walks in, but Ryan doesn’t meet his eyes and doesn’t say anything. Instead, he closes the door, yanks off some tape, and presses the piece of paper (which is labeled with _recording in session, please don’t disturb)_ to the small window inset in the door. It’s the perfect size to entirely cover the glass, and it filters out the bright florescent light from the hallway outside, leaving them in an orange tinted, considerably softer glow. Once he’s added extra pieces of tape all around the edge of the makeshift sign, just for extra security, he flicks the lock on the door and turns around.

Shane looks up from the microphones again and grins at him, just in time for Ryan to press his hands into Shane’s chest and shove him back against the wall.

“What got into you this morning?” he asks, curling his fingers tightly into the front of Shane’s red flannel. Shane’s grin grows even wider, and he drops one hand to Ryan’s face, traces his thumb along his cheekbone soft enough for it to be completely at odds with his damnably smug smile.

“It was a _really_ boring meeting,” he answers with a slight shrug. “Besides, it’s fun watching you squirm.”

“I thought you said you _weren’t_ a sadist,” Ryan retorts, craning his cheek into Shane’s palm and sliding his hands from Shane’s chest to his waist, so that he can step even closer to him, until he can feel Shane’s rib cage expanding as he breathes.

“Jury’s still out on that,” Shane laughs. After a moment, his grin wavers slightly, and he leans back a little, not totally out of Ryan’s grasp, but enough that they’re no longer chest to chest. “But if you’re not cool with it, I won’t do it again. Seriously.”

Instead of giving him a verbal answer, Ryan cranes up and kisses him. Shane’s glasses bump against his cheek as he tilts his head to the side, properly slotting their mouths together, and Ryan parts his lips a little, just enough to deepen the kiss. The hand on Ryan’s cheek slides up into Ryan’s hair, knocking his baseball hat to the floor in the process, and Ryan pulls back so that he can glare at Shane.

“How dare you,” he says, flicking his eyes from where his hat is lying on the floor and back to Shane. “Now you _definitely_ need to finish what you started earlier.”

Shane raises an eyebrow.

“That so?” he asks, lightly tugging on Ryan’s short hair. This time, Ryan doesn’t bother to bite back his groan; the room is entirely soundproofed, so there’s no need to worry about anyone but Shane overhearing him. “What if someone comes by?”

“Door’s locked,” Ryan answers immediately. He lets his fingers slide under Shane’s shirt, until they’re flitting along the sharp vee of his hipbones, and he doesn’t miss the sharp breath Shane takes in response. “And besides, you didn’t seem to care about getting caught earlier.”

“Maybe I’m just an exhibitionist,” Shane replies, dropping his other hand to the side of Ryan’s neck. “You ever consider that?” His thumb smooths over the front of Ryan’s neck, traces the line of his throat and settles in the hollow at the bottom. He doesn’t press in hard, but there’s just a hint of pressure, enough for Ryan’s breath to hitch, enough for him to feel it when he swallows.

Now _that’s_ something they definitely can’t do at work, not unless he wants to ask to borrow a scarf or some concealer from someone, and that would definitely take the prize for most awkward conversation he’s ever had with a coworker.

“You serious about that?” Ryan asks, tightening his grip on Shane’s hips. “Because I feel like that’s a conversation we should probably have soon, if that’s actually the case.” He expects to get some kind of smug comment or joke in response but, after a moment, Shane simply shakes his head and leans down to press his forehead to Ryan’s.

“You’re right,” he says quietly, and even though it’s totally not the right time for it, Ryan can’t help but want to gloat, just a little bit. “I’m not. I don’t really want anyone else to see the way you get for me.”

Ryan’s breath hitches again, and he swears that he can hear his own heartbeat pounding in his ears. He’s glad that they’re both on the same page about that, at the very least. It’s not a possessiveness thing, not really; he’s just not into the idea of sharing. He doesn’t want anyone else to see the way he gets for Shane but, conversely, he also doesn’t want anyone else to see how Shane gets for him. He doesn’t want anyone else to see how Shane smiles all soft and fond when they’re hanging out after work or at the hotel after a shoot, doesn’t want anyone else to hear how Shane says his name sometimes, usually after he’s just come, all breathless and reverent. 

“And yet, you almost gave me a handjob in a meeting,” Ryan says, unable to stop himself from teasing, mouth brushing against the corner of Shane’s. “You’re a complicated man, Mr. Madej.”

“International man of mystery, baby,” Shane responds, and Ryan groans loudly and rolls his eyes.

“Jesus, will you just shut up and fucking kiss me again? We _do_ have to get some actual work done while we have this room booked.” 

“Somebody’s bossy today.”

“You like it,” Ryan retorts, grabbing Shane’s bottom lip with his teeth and tugging slightly. Noticeably, Shane doesn’t deny it, but he does press his thumb harder into the hollow at the base of Ryan’s throat, and Ryan’s eyes flutter shut as Shane finally quits fucking around and kisses him.

He doesn’t stop kissing him for a long time, long enough for Ryan’s chest to actually start to ache. He keeps his hands tucked underneath Shane’s shirt, runs his fingers up to trace the curvature of his ribs before he runs them back down to dart over his hipbones again. When he drags them towards Shane’s stomach and pauses with his fingertips brushing under the skin just above the waistband of his jeans, Shane sighs into his mouth and slowly slides his hand out of Ryan’s hair.

“Don’t suppose you thought of how we could possibly get come out of this carpet?” Shane asks, smoothing his flattened palm down Ryan’s chest. “You know, just in case.” He says it so damn casually, like they’re just talking about the next episode of Unsolved or what they should watch on Netflix, and Ryan _hates_ that it still makes him flush all over.

“Brought tissues,” he answers, waving toward the small shelf jutting from the wall just beside the door. Shane’s hand pauses on his stomach, with the heel of his hand just brushing against the button of Ryan’s jeans, and Ryan holds his breath, tries to remain still, even though all he wants to do is press his hips up into Shane’s palm. 

“Well, guess there’s no sense in waiting any longer then,” Shane replies and, with no further preamble, he pops open the button on Ryan’s jeans, drags down the zipper, threads his long fingers through the slit at the front of Ryan’s boxers and wraps them around his dick.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Ryan gasps, arching his hips up into Shane’s loose grip, mouth falling open and eyes falling closed. He wants and plans to reciprocate, but after being strung along for so long, finally being touched feels so goddamn good that he can barely process it.

“You alright?” Shane asks, pressing his mouth to the corner of Ryan’s, then to his cheek. Ryan nods and tilts his head back and, thankfully, Shane takes the hint, ducks his head down even further-

(And even though Ryan wants Shane’s mouth on his throat, he hopes that Shane doesn’t stay stooped for too long, because then he’s bound to have to put up with him griping about having a sore back for the rest of the day, along with short jokes, and he hears enough of those on a daily basis.

Sometimes, he resents the fact that his goddamn boyfriend is a freak of nature.)

-and catches his teeth on the line of Ryan’s jaw. His grip tightens, and he twists his wrist in a way that has Ryan’s nerves catching alight. It’s also what finally gets him moving, and he fumbles with Shane’s button and zipper until they’re both open and he can shove one of his hands inside Shane’s jeans.

As soon as his fingertips brush over Shane’s dick, Shane groans out Ryan’s name, and his teeth tighten on the side of Ryan’s throat, hard enough for it to almost be on the wrong side of painful.

Somehow, Ryan has a sneaking suspicion that he might end up having to ask someone for concealer anyway.

The situation isn’t without its hiccups; their wrists keep bumping together, it’s not a great angle and, for a time, there’s a little bit too much friction, which has Ryan briefly considering the idea of maybe hiding a bottle of lube in his desk.

(Not that he wants to make this kind of thing a weekly occurrence, but maybe it’s best to be prepared.)

The last problem is solved when Shane lets go of him just long enough to lick his own palm. When he wraps his fingers back around Ryan, the friction is considerably lessened, and Ryan ends up burying another gasped curse into his own palm as he follows Shane’s lead.

After that, it doesn’t take much longer for him to come with his forehead braced against Shane’s chest, eyes squeezed shut, panting, his own fingers still instinctively stroking Shane even as his mind goes white.

“Fuck, Ryan,” Shane gasps. His other hand is back in Ryan’s hair, intermittently tightening. “Like that. Don’t stop.”

“Didn’t plan on it,” Ryan replies, groaning as Shane’s hand, still wrapped around him, tightens around his oversensitive dick. Forcing himself to concentrate, he speeds up just a little, but otherwise tries to keep his movements steady.

It works. Only a few moments later, Shane tugs hard on his hair and buries his face into the crook of Ryan’s neck and shoulder as he spills over his fingers. Ryan carefully works him through the aftershocks, only stopping when Shane hisses slightly through his teeth.

That’s when he realizes that, while the tissues _were_ a good idea, they’re kind of useless now, because there’s no way he’s going to be able to cross the room to grab them without at least _some_ come dripping on the floor.

“I didn’t think this through as well as I thought,” he mutters against Shane's chest. Shane huffs out a laugh.

“Well, you’re lucky I decided to layer it up today,” he says, sliding his hand out of Ryan’s hair in favor of carefully popping open the buttons on his flannel. “What would you do without me?”

“I’d deal with about two hundred percent fewer short jokes in a day,” Ryan answers, finally sliding his hand out of Shane’s jeans and wiping it off on his shirt after he’s shrugged it off and handed it over. It’s pretty gross, but all things told, it’s still better than having to explain away mystery stains on the sound booth’s floor. 

“You’d miss them and you know it,” Shane replies as he zips himself back up and, damn it, much as Ryan is loath to admit it, he's right. “You owe me for that shirt, by the way.”

“I’m sure I can make it up to you tonight,” Ryan says. Shane grins at him again and leans down for another kiss that ends up being deeper and lasts way longer than Ryan expects.

“I’m sure you will,” Shane says once he’s pulled away. “Let’s get back to work before we run out of time and have to explain to Jen why we’re biting into her recording session.”

&.

Two weeks later, they have to sacrifice their lunch to sit through what is, without a doubt, the most boring meeting Ryan has ever had to partake in.

After ten minutes of looking at boring slides and having to listen to one of the executives drone on and on in a pitch-perfect monotone, he subtly shifts his chair closer to Shane’s and drops his hand to Shane’s bony knee.

“We’ve got a booth booked after this, right?” he murmurs under his breath, taking advantage of a momentary lull in the proceedings.

The way Shane’s eyes widen and his throat bobs as Ryan drags his fingers further up his thigh is possibly the most gratifying thing Ryan has ever seen.

“Yeah,” Shane answers quietly and, as he starts tracing tiny circles on the inside of Shane’s thigh, Ryan watches Shane’s fingers tighten around his pen. “We do.”

Ryan grins, gets more comfortable in his chair, and moves his hand up higher. 

“Good.”

(This time, he remembers to keep the tissues within easy reach.)

**Author's Note:**

> as always, I can be found on [tumblr.](http://banshee-cheekbones.tumblr.com/) :)


End file.
